


In The Jungle

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Fantasy Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is captured by a jungle tribe, and a mysterious strange offers him protection-for a price.  An answer to Ann's Fantasy Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Jungle

July 11, 1997

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "The Sentinel." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. 

Rated NC-17 for m/m sexual content 

## In The Jungle...

by Katrina Bowen  


*Shit.* Something bites me on the back of my neck, and it starts to itch right away. I want to scratch it, but that's a little hard to do with my hands tied behind my back. I can't do anything about the insect bites, just like I can't do anything about the sweat pouring into my eyes, or about my hair falling all over the place, or about being scared to death. 

Trying to be discreet about it, I lean forward a little to catch Dr. Vaughan's attention. Doesn't work. He's staring around at the people surrounding us, speaking every language he knows, but none of them react. He tries to rise off his knees but one of the warriors levels a spear directly at his throat. Vaughan has the sense to settle back slowly, and the spear is withdrawn. Welcome to the wonderful world of field anthropology, Sandburg. 

Great. So I guess this is Life Lesson Number 58 -- if you're heading into a jungle, make sure your driver knows where the hell he's going; and if he *doesn't* know, make sure he won't run away and leave you facing stony-faced hunters with spears and bows. A couple hours ago, all I was worried about was if I'd packed enough bug spray and how I'd keep my research notes from getting mildewed in this jungle air. Now, I'm worrying about becoming a shish kebab. Kind of puts it all in perspective. Hope I get a chance to find out what Life Lesson Number 59 is. 

Vaughan and I look at each other nervously as the low hum of conversation around us increases in volume. There's some kind of commotion on the outskirts of the group. The focus of everything seems to be one man, a lot taller than the rest of the tribe. I squint, trying to get a good look at him, but the smoke from the fire makes my eyes water. By the time my vision clears, he's gone. 

Sighing, I try to relax as much as I can. But before I know what's happening, I'm yanked to my feet and marched away from Dr. Vaughan. I hear him protesting, but I'm too startled -- okay, too busy concentrating on not pissing my pants in abject terror -- to pay much attention to what he's saying. 

They take me to a hut set slightly apart from the others and shove me inside. The door is closed behind me. "Uhhh... okay." My voice is shaking. I don't care. "So is this where I find out what's going on?" It's pitch dark in the hut. I take a step forward... and, naturally enough, trip. 

As I stumble, I twist my body around to try to regain some kind of balance. Then strong hands lock around my upper arms and pull me upright again. Not for long. I'm spun around once, twice... when I'm completely disoriented, I'm abruptly released. I feel myself falling backward, and I brace myself for some pretty major pain. 

It doesn't come. Oh, sure, I get the breath knocked out of me, but I fall on something a lot softer than I expected. My relief doesn't last long. Whoever's in the hut with me flips me over onto my stomach, and a large hand comes to rest on the back of my neck. "Hey!" I start to struggle. Then I hear something that stops me. Even though I was raised by a committed pacifist, I recognize the whisper of steel on steel. I'm not all that pleased to have my guess confirmed when something sharp and cold slides down my arm. 

Instead of slicing into my flesh, though, I feel a slight pressure on the rope binding my wrists as the tip of the knife slips under it. Then the man holding me down whispers, "I'm going to set you free. I'm *not* going to hurt you, all right?" 

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, man -- " Then it dawns on me. His voice is a little rusty and he speaks hesitantly, as if he's almost forgotten the language, but there's no mistaking the accent. This guy's an American. Before I can say anything about it, though (and what's there to say? Am I supposed to break into a chorus of "It's a Small World After All"?), my hands are free and he's helping me sit up. 

"Thanks." I scoot away from him. I don't get far before he reaches out and grabs my wrist. It's a little sore from the ropes, and I draw my breath in sharply. 

"I'm sorry." He lets go of me at once. "But they're watching us." 

"*Why*?" I sit against the wall and pull my legs up to my chest. This time, he doesn't try to pull me back. "What the fuck is going on here, man?" I try to make out his features, but no luck -- I can barely make out his general shape, enough to tell that this is one huge hombre, but that's it. 

Somehow, I get the feeling that he doesn't have as much trouble seeing me. He sighs. "You and your friend invaded their territory. You don't belong to a friendly tribe, so you're obviously enemies." 

I freeze. "Where's Dr. Vaughan? They're not -- " I trail off and swallow hard. 

"No." He's speaking a little easier now. "He's just locked up. I convinced the elders.... They're not going to kill either of you." 

"Oh. Good." But I don't feel reassured. "So killing us was on the agenda before, but it's not now." 

He hesitates. "No. There was another option. I'm the -- the guardian of this tribe. That gives me certain... privileges. If I claim you, place you under my protection, you and your friend will be safe until I can get you out of here." 

I have a hard time remembering how to speak. When I finally do, I ask, "What does... 'protection' mean, exactly?" He doesn't say anything. I start babbling. "I mean, I think I have a pretty good idea -- there's this bit in Plato's _Republic_ that talks about how the bravest warriors have the right to choose anyone that they want to -- and I can't exactly say that I've never done this before. Well, okay, I haven't done *this* --" I remember what the alternative to *this* is, and my throat freezes up again. 

There's a long silence. Then he stands up and steps away from the bed. "No. We can figure something out --" He doesn't finish the thought. 

I try to laugh. It doesn't sound like much. "Come on, man. I know tribal structures. They're not renowned for flexibility. If you break the rules, guardian or not, you'll probably be killed too, right?" He doesn't deny it, and I take a deep breath. "Either we do... *this*... or Vaughan and I end up in one of those big cooking pots like you see in cartoons." 

"They don't have a big pot." It's not much of a joke, and I can't say that it relaxes me much. It helps a little, that's all. He hesitates, then comes back to the bed. He sits down; not next to me, not exactly. But it's not a very big bed, and I can sense him only a foot or so away. Not much distance between us at all. 

I try to think of something to break the ice, but none of my usual lines really seem appropriate. While my mind is floundering, though, his seems to be moving straight ahead. He reaches out, brushes my hair out of my eyes. I concentrate on breathing. 

Then I *can't* breathe, because his mouth is covering mine. One hand continues threading through my hair, and the other is resting lightly on the back of my neck. Right on that damn bug bite, but I guess he couldn't be expected to know that. Then that hand starts stroking my back. Incredible. We're in a fuck or die situation, and he's initiating foreplay? Apparently he feels that even though this isn't something either of us really wants, and even though he's probably been stuck with a few extra Y chromosomes, that doesn't mean he can't be a gentleman about it. Maybe he'll give me flowers after *this* is all over. 

He starts unbuttoning my shirt, and I suddenly realize that he's not wearing much in the way of clothes. He is, technically speaking, naked. I still can't see him, but I can feel him. Oh, I can definitely feel him as he pulls me a little closer. Not wanting to make him do all the work, I put my hands on his shoulders. *Big.* Hard, muscled, lean -- God, if he wanted to, he could break me. He could have just pushed me onto the bed, left my hands tied, and gotten it over with. But he explained, and wanted to find a way out of it, and -- well, he's trying to make it... not horrible. He's trying to take care of me. 

And I've gone to bed with people for much worse reasons. 

Sliding my hands around his back, I lean into the kiss. I lean into him. He's surprised, I think, but he recovers nicely. Pushing my shirt off, he breaks the kiss and lowers me to the bed. I whimper as his teeth scrape lightly across one nipple, then the other. Part of me wants to ask his name, or tell him mine, but the moment for introductions is long past. It might come again later. 

His hands start unfastening my pants. I lift my hips as he slides them down. He has a moment's trouble with my boots, but then they're off -- dimly, I realize that he used the knife to cut the laces. 

I have time to think, "Okay, I'm naked, too. Yippee." Then he's silently urging me to roll over on my stomach. I do it. He stretches out on top of me, but doesn't put any weight on me. I'm lying on some kind of animal skin. It's soft, and thick, and I curl my fingers into it. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm sure it's making the bed shake. He can feel it, too, because he slides a hand under me and presses his palm against my chest. He murmurs something soft and kind-sounding, but I can't decipher the words. 

Wriggling against him, I bury my face in the fur. His hand eases down my stomach. My muscles twitch in response, and I groan as he carefully grasps my cock. Somewhere along the line, I got hard. When did *that* happen? 

He pulls his hand away, sits up and straddles my thighs. I try to stifle it, but I feel a sob rising in my throat. He must have heard, because he leans forward and gently kisses the back of my neck, over and over, until I calm myself down a little. I look over my shoulder and nod. "Okay. I'm -- " He kisses me again, barely more than a flick of his tongue against mine. And I give up on speech. 

He straightens up again. I hear him fumbling with something. A single finger, cool and slick, brushes against my anus. I do my best to relax as his other hand clasps my hip, kneading my flesh -- deciding where to hold on, I guess. Then another finger enters me, and I stop worrying about why he's doing anything. I thrust back instinctively, rising to my knees as his fingers start moving slowly inside me, stretching me, preparing me. He adds a third finger. 

As I squirm against him, he reaches around me to fondle my cock again. I can feel his shaft pressing into my leg as his fingers slowly withdraw. Before I can protest, the tip of his cock is inside me. Oh, God. He rotates his hips a little, working into me steadily. I cry out, and he stops moving until I buck against him again. Then, with one hard thrust, he's inside me, pushing me flat against the bed. 

I cry out again, but this time he knows I don't want him to stop. My hips start to echo his rhythm as he pounds into me. I feel the fur beneath us grow damp with the sweat pouring off my body; my erection had faded when he first entered me, but it comes back as I rub it against the bed. I'm so hard it hurts. It feels wonderful. 

The kisses begin falling on my neck and shoulders again, then turn to nibbles and sucking. A hand snakes around and tweaks my nipple. I don't know what to react to anymore. He darts his tongue inside my ear, and that's all it takes. Lights explode in my head as I explode, and I try to muffle my scream in the fur. Then he's gripping my shoulders, holding me down as he bites the back of my neck hard. I feel him shudder and tense, and then he's shooting inside me, hot and strong and claiming me as his.   
  


* * *

The front door to the loft opened, and closed. Blair froze; but there were just the everyday sounds of Jim putting his things away, going briefly into the bathroom, and then up the stairs. Just like every night this week. Just like every night for so long now.... 

Blair waited until his heart stopped trying to pound its way out of his body before he grabbed a discarded t-shirt from the floor. He wiped the semen from his thighs and belly, tossed the shirt into the corner, switched the bedside lamp off and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He stared into the dark for a long time, listening to the emptiness, before he let his tears fall.   
  


* * *

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